


Sunflower, Vol 6

by AHardLifee, writeyourownlifestory



Series: Loser/Lover: Deluxe Edition [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - Punk, Eventual Smut, M/M, Punk, Randomness, So Married, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHardLifee/pseuds/AHardLifee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourownlifestory/pseuds/writeyourownlifestory
Summary: Dating a rockstar was the easy part, it's being in a relationship, in general? Now that shit was hard.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Loser/Lover: Deluxe Edition [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665226
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	1. Sunflower, Vol 6 - Harry Styles

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again all Dr. K fans. Thank you all for coming back here. Or perhaps you are new to this story? Regardless, I thank you for checking it out. This won't be a sequel in full, but rather each chapter is a different moment from the wonderful adventure of Richie and Dr. K. 
> 
> The first chapter is one that a lot of people requested and that is the meeting between Richie and Eddie but from Eddie's point of view. We hope you like it.

_**I couldn't want you anymore** _  
_**Kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor** _  
_**I couldn't want you anymore tonight (tonight, tonight)** _

16 articles. 

Eddie had read 16 articles. Listened to 9 Podcasts. And watched 5 different interviews all because of who the interviewer was. 

He had never been interested in things like that. Whenever he would read his mother’s magazines, the few she kept around the house, he would skip over the actual words of whatever actor or musician the issue was based on and instead focus solely on the pictures of the person.

Robert Redford had been a favorite of his mother’s back in the day though he always found him to be a bit too prim, and proper, and perfect for his own liking. He had found a couple of magazines back when he was a kid with featurettes from the likes of Jack White, Lindsey Buckingham, and Joey Ramone. 

There had been something about them that always seemed to catch his eye and after a good while of staring at their pictures, Eddie began to realize it wasn’t just their musical talents he liked. 

But that was an issue for another day. 

He hadn’t changed much. Same gangly body. Same thick glasses. His hair was shorter now, just slightly styled though he was still working with the same shirt-over-shirt situation he had been sporting since they were kids. 

Kids. Christ, they were fucking kids the last time Eddie saw him. 13. That was barely anything. At 13 you think you have the whole world figured out but that’s a lie. At 13 you’re still a child. A child with no idea about how cruel the world could be. Sure, sometimes you get a taste of it. Fuck, Eddie had been given a hearty spoonful every time he left the house but it wasn’t until he got older did he realize just how terrible the world could be. 

And yet that seemed so long ago. 

Now he was here, in his hotel suite until the construction of his home was completed. It was the first time he’d ever really have that wasn’t some bedroom or floor level apartment. It was a big deal and he wanted them to take their time with it. 

He was successful and proud of that fact. Even if he knew his name would soon be slandered and the music world would implode from the inside out, he was proud of all he had done from this point on. 

He had dreams, ambitions, and things he wanted to do on his own. Trashmouth had been such a large part of his life but there was still so much life to live and it wasn’t fair to continuously pull his band away from their family and force them back on tour because he had some new idea he wanted to share.

He had spoken to them all and each was in agreement that a break was needed. A hiatus of sorts so members who had families of their own and ideas of their own could focus on themselves for the first time in years. 

The idea of how to release it was still up in the air. Stan has suggested just releasing a song but Eddie didn’t want to just spring this on his fans. He knew it would be a touchy subject and didn’t want to alienate anyone right away. 

He wanted to explain himself in his own words, in his own time. 

And it seemed he had finally found the platform he was going to do it on. 

He revealed the idea to his team on a fine afternoon. He placed the iPad onto the table, face up so the picture of the writer was visible to those around him. 

“Are we meant to know who this is?” Stan questioned after a moment.

“Richard Tozier. He’s a writer for Paper Boat magazine.” 

“Paper Boat, that online tabloid magazine?”

“They’re not a tabloid. This isn’t TMZ or People.” Beverly mentioned. “They’re closer to Rolling Stone or even Time. Just for a younger audience.”

Stanley tossed the pen down, utterly unimpressed with the choice Eddie was making. “Oh, lovely. I’m sure I can get in contact with Teen Beat if you’re so inclined.” 

Beverly scoffed, sending a less than amused glare to the accountant turned manager. “Can you try not to sound like a boring boomer?” 

“He’s who I’ll give the expóse to,” Eddie claimed. 

“Paper Boat has a music expert. Mike Hanlon.” Beverly said, looking up from her iPad. “He did the piece on Brian May during the whole Save the Koalas during the Australian wildfires.” 

“While Mr. Hanlon is a talented writer, I’ve chosen to do my interview with Mr. Tozier.” 

“He is a professional in puffery,” Stan said aloud, looking up from his phone. He did a quick google search of the guy, finding everything he had written to be blasé and unimpressive. “Come on. You can do better than this.” 

“I don’t want better. I want him.”

“You realize you could sell this story for millions right? You could get Time. You could get Rolling Stone. We’ve done Rolling Stone! Why are you tossing it away for some underdog?”

“Isn’t that what Trashmouth was? What I used to be? The little guy is just trying to compete?” 

“Eddie be serious. You’re not some little guy trying to climb the corporate ladder. You’re Dr. K. You’re one of sexiest men alive. You’ve won awards for your lyrics. You’re a musical genius.”

“Then shouldn’t I be able to choose who I want to sell the story to?” Eddie countered. “Bev. Get in contact with Bill Denbrough. He runs the magazine. Tell him the story is theirs but only if I can do it with Richie.”

Stan sighed, leaning back in his chair in defeat. He knew better than to go against Eddie’s judgment and demands. 

It was later that night when Beverly cornered him. They were sitting on the couch, ordering his favorite takeout. She didn’t even have to ask because she already knew. Maybe because she was good at her job, a very professional assistant that knew what her client liked. Or maybe she was just a great best friend. Perhaps both. 

“You wanna tell me why you chose a literal nobody to do your reveal with?” She asked halfway through their meal. 

“He’s not a nobody, Bev. He interviewed Bill Nye for Christ's sake.” 

“You know what I mean, K. He isn’t a music writer. He’s just a guy. There has to be a reason.” 

Eddie swirled his chopsticks around, messing with the noodles inside his carton. Back when he was a kid his mother never let him eat straight from the container. Everything had to be poured out and properly portioned. He could never eat anything on his own. 

Oh how long ago that seemed. 

“It’s him, Bev,” Eddie mentioned softly. 

Eddie didn’t have to go into detail. He had already done that a very long time ago. When he first met Beverly, he had been at the very end of his very long streak of using alcohol and drugs as a clutch. Back when all his songs were far too personal and maybe a tad too dark. He knew people related to it, but they hurt to constantly sing over and over again. It was like replaying the horrific memories on repeat every single day. 

He had gotten clean with the help of Beverly, who took the chance to be the first real friend Eddie ever had since he was just a child. He poured his head out to her, telling her everything anybody would ever want to know about him. How he became Dr. K, how he made sure Edward Kaspbrak no longer existed, and how everything came down to the love for another boy he wasn’t allowed to feel.

And now that boy was all grown up, living in the same city with him, thriving in his own career. He never thought of Richie as a writer, but after reading his pieces and watching his interviews, everything fell into place. 

He was still the same Richie. Same smile, and eyes, and laugh. 

If only Eddie was the same old Eddie. 

“You’re positive it’s him? Richard Tozier is a strange name, but surely there can’t be only one.” 

“It’s him, Beverly. I’d never forget that face.” He’d never forget the way he’d make him feel just by smiling at him. 

“So, what’s the plan? Are you going to tell him during the interview?”

“Tell him what?” Eddie asked. “Who I am? I don’t know. I guess I just want to see him one more time? Have closure?” 

“Do you think he’d be able to tell?” 

Eddie laughed at the very thought. Dr. K was a far cry from the short-short wearing, inhaler carrying cry baby Eddie used to be. “Doubtful.” He mentioned. 

Beverly was typing away on her phone, frowning deeply. “He doesn’t have an Instagram.” She announced with annoyance. 

Eddie stood, going to grab the empty cartons and dispose of them into the trash. “I don’t want to just announce myself, you know? I still have to be professional about this. But seeing him again after everything would be nice.” 

“K,” Beverly spoke up. 

“He may not even be gay, you know? Or single? I don’t know why I am even thinking that way.” 

Sure, they had fallen in love when they were young, but they were in a small town full of angry people. They were lonely and more or less fed off each other to survive. Eddie wouldn’t have been surprised if he found out all of that was just a mask and Richie was completely straight. 

“K, you have to see this.” 

Eddie turned back, finding Beverly kneeling on the couch, leaning over the back of it to hold her phone out. It was the Paper Boat website, a featurette that Richie had written sometime last year. The picture of him wasn’t one he had seen before and Eddie figured it must have been lost in the mix of his other articles. 

It wasn’t the picture per se that caught both their attention, but rather what Richie was wearing in the picture. Rather than his button-down or shirt, it was one with an all too familiar logo, on a distressed black and grey tee. 

“ **_Adventures of Being A Punk Rock Fan Boy_ ** by Richard Tozier,” Beverly spoke, having already read the title of the article. 

“Maybe it’s all punk rock?” 

“Oh no, sweetie. This is all about  _ you _ .” Beverly replied, a beaming smile slipping across her face. 

Eddie skimmed it enough, running his thumb along the screen to scroll through the entire article. It was longer than any other article Eddie had read of his. 

And it was all about him. Dr. K and Trashmouth. About how his life changed the night he saw the band for the first time in a dingy little theatre that barely held fifty people. Richie explained how he had always been a lover of music, but the way Trashmouth played completely transcended the way he listened to it. 

“He’s a fucking fan.” Eddie laughed hysterically.

Beverly was beaming, the chaos of the situation exciting her like never before. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” 

#  🤘

  
The interview was set up like any other. Despite this being an old friend of his, Eddie wanted to play this out as professionally as possible. He didn’t drown himself in hair and makeup like they normally would. He wanted to have a bit of normalcy to this, even if he wasn’t sure how Richie would react. He had to sell the part of Dr. K after all. Cool, calm, and completely uncaring. 

“Do you think he knows it’s you?” Beverly asked as they sat in the waiting room. 

Eddie shook his head checking his impending wrinkles in the mirror. “Impossible. You read the article he wrote about me. If he knew who I was, he would have said something.” 

“Perhaps. Or maybe he wanted to keep it professional? No one knows your identity but Stan and I.” 

“And I want to keep it that way.” 

The lengths that Eddie had taken to bury the boy he was before were tiring. As far as the world was concerned, Edward Kaspbrak died inside the asylum his mother had sent him to. It wasn’t just his name he had changed. There was no sign of him before joining the band. It was like he just came out of the blue and he preferred it that way. 

“Exactly. So don’t you think he’d fall into some legal trouble if he said he knew who you were behind the moniker?” 

It wasn’t bizarre for Eddie to think that Richie would connect the dots, but Eddie worked very hard to make sure those dots were very far apart. He didn’t look, or act, or sound like the weezy little kid he had once been. If Richie already knew who he was, he wouldn’t be working at some magazine, but rather has a PI making the big bucks solving the most impossible crimes. 

“Should I get that slit in my brow?” Eddie asked, letting the conversation change. 

Beverly just rolled her eyes, flipping the vanity light off as she left the room to check up on their interviewer. 

Eddie stayed in the room, staring into the dimly light mirror, his reflection gazing back at him as he counted down the minutes. He didn’t want to just rush into the room and announce his presence. After all, what was a star if they weren’t fashionably late? So they gave him a bit of time, hoping to get his nerves down until it was time to go. 

He checked his hair and his breath, letting them powder him down before finally Beverly pushed him out of the waiting room and into the one where Richie was standing, inspecting the snack table.

Eddie stood in the back, watching him struggle to open the bottle of soda that had been provided for them. They offered to give him alcohol, despite how early the interview was, but Eddie declined, informing them he had been sober for some time now.

After a few moments of staring, he finally spoke up. “It’s a twist-off.”

Richie turned then, staring into him with those big blue eyes that used to captivate Eddie back when they were kids. He blamed the bottle cap glasses that always made them seem so much bigger, and fuller. Even now, as an adult, Richie still had the thick glasses on though he looked far better. 

After a moment of stalling, Richie opened the bottle, reaching out to offer it to Eddie, who took it kindly, before opening a second one for himself. 

“What? Disappointed it’s not beer?” Eddie asked, trying to break the obvious tension that was running between them. 

“It’s ten in the morning.” He replied, though Eddie just shrugged it off, still trying to play it off like whatever. 

“As they say: it’s five o’clock somewhere.” He mentioned, sipping slowly from the soda bottle. He tried to read off Richie’s energy, to see if he could see right through the mask that Eddie had painted on himself. “So. You’re him, huh?” 

He was still gangly. Still had that boyish look to him. He dressed maturely enough, professionally enough, but there was still a sense of ‘Trashmouth Tozier’ to it. Eddie waited for the response, for Richie to call him out on his bullshit, but it never came. Instead, he put the bottle down and shoved his hand out in offering. 

“Yes! Hi. Richard Tozier; representative of Paper Boat Magazine.”

That was enough to answer the questions bouncing along the walls of Eddie’s brain. He stood the hand firmly, nodding over to the couch in the corner. 

“So, shall the interview begin?” 

“First, I just want to say thank you for allowing us to do this.” Richie began as they got comfortable. “I know you aren’t a very public person, so to be able to do a one-on-one with you is truly an honor.” 

Eddie settled into the cushions, running his palms along with the threading of his jeans. “People are hungry. Might as well feed them.”

“Right. Okay. So, a solo album. Why now?” 

It had been a question that Eddie had been facing since the moment he sat the band down and told them he wanted to go out on his own. It just felt like the right time. The rest of the group had other things to focus on. Marriages, and children, and their own rehabilitation issues. Eddie didn’t want to stop and he felt selfish for dragging them along when there were other things they wanted to focus on. 

“Why not now?” He answered simply. 

Richie smiled wide, jotting it down onto his pad. “Right, okay. Great answer. So, the album. Do you have a title for it yet?” 

Eddie lifted his hand, having a shifting movement carefully. “We have a few things bouncing around, but nothing has been decided yet.” 

“And it’s all original work that you’ve written on your own?” Richie continued as he wrote everything down. 

“Oh, the contrary, my first big solo album will be a complete list of some of my favorite songs already in creation.” 

Richie paused, his glasses sliding down his nose just slightly. Eddie itched to reach up and correct it like he had done hundreds of times when they were kids, but he kept his hands to himself. 

“So a cover album?” He asked, adjusting them properly. “Why? I only ask because you’re an amazing songwriter! Surely you can make a whole album up on your own.” 

It was exactly what Stanley had said to him when he said he wanted to do a cover album. The time, effort, and money it took to get the rights to all the songs just wouldn’t be beneficial for someone starting on their own, but Eddie refused.

There were too many songs out there that meant so much to him and Eddie wanted to honor them in the only way he felt he could and that was putting his swing on them. 

“Your flattery is charming,” Eddie mentioned, biting his lip to keep himself from smiling too hard. “And I have many ideas for songs, but there are already so many songs out there and I want to lend my voice and specific style to them. And don’t call me Shirley.”

Richie beamed suddenly, scribbling everything down quickly. “Dr. K gets off with a zinger! Impressive. Okay so. Cover album. Do I get to know any of the songs?”

“It will be between fifteen and twenty. We’re still narrowing it down.”

“That’s quite a lot. Any particular reason?”

Eddie shrugged, taking a sip from his Coke zero. “I’m greedy.” He replied. “I will say each song has been chosen by me. Little ditties that touched me in one way or another during my life, going back to my childhood to now.”

“Do you have a favorite?” 

“I do, though I can’t say without revealing anything.”

Richie shifted on the couch, crossing his legs as he got more comfortable in the setting. “What about in general?” He offered. “Come on. Even a rockstar has to have a favorite song.”

Eddie thought about it for a moment, thinking about all the songs he used to sing in his shower, or while brushing his teeth, or when he was alone having escaped from another party that his bandmates or publicist dragged him to. There had been one song that he had always enjoyed, one that played often in his head whenever he had this familiar butterfly feeling in his stomach. 

“ _ Clock strikes upon the house and the sun begins to fade.” He sang softly. “Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away. I’ve done alright up to now, it’s the light of day that shows me how. And when the light falls, loneliness calls..... _ ” 

Richie stared at him and for a small moment, Eddie thought he might have figured it all out. After all, it had been Richie that used to sing it to Eddie in the privacy of his basement, twirling him around and around until they would crash to the floor in a ridiculous mess. 

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody?” He questioned. “Your favorite song is by Whitney Houston?” 

“Are you not a fan?” Eddie challenged. 

Richie jumped, fixing his posture. “What? No, it’s not that! Whitney was iconic. Rest in Peace, Queen, but I just meant. It’s surprising! Especially for somebody with your record.”

“Even rockstars can have a soft spot for a good pop song.” 

Silence took over rapidly and Eddie found himself fidgeting in his seat, unable to just sit there and look at this grown man, a stranger, that had once been a little boy that he knew all too well. 

“Why now?” Richie asked, his voice cutting through Eddie’s anxiety. “Why go solo now?”

“My bandmates have their own lives,” Eddie explained. “Wives. Children. I have neither. Besides, I lived my life doing what other people expected of me. Though I’d have fun and throw a wrench in their plan for me.”

Even though he worked in the punk rock corner of the music industry, Eddie had been nothing more than a Ken Doll for them to play with. He dressed how they wanted him to dress, and sang like they wanted him to sing. There was so much more to Eddie than just this other persona that he had built up and he wanted to prove that not only to the world but to himself as well. 

The door opened then, with a knock from Beverly who was holding her cell phone against her shoulder. She rambled on about cutting it short due to Stanley being on the phone. Eddie stood, offering an apologetic smile to the writer. “Duty calls.” 

“Thank you. Really. Having this chance has been a total career changer.” 

They stood together, neither making a move even though his manager was on the phone, wanting to speak business.

“Do you think I could bother you for a picture?” Richie asked, speaking through his teeth as if it was such a risque thing to ask. “I know it’s super unprofessional, but you’re like my idol.” 

Eddie laughed, unable to stop himself. It was absolute insanity, knowing that Richie Tozier, who used to be so wild, and free, and unafraid of anything would look to Eddie as his idol. Eddie, who was scared of his mother, and the dark, and bullies, and never did anything brave in his entire fucking life aside from kissing another boy.

Who would have fucking thought? 

Eddie bobbed his head, giving Richie the chance to get his phone. He smiled in closer, smiling brighter than he would for any other photo-opt. After all, this wasn’t just any regular fan. When they broke away, Eddie shook Richie’s hand, soaking at the moment for the few seconds that it lasted. 

“It was nice to see you again, Richie.” He remarked, releasing the hold just as Beverly tugged him out of the room and shoved the phone against his ear so he could listen to Stanley tell him that Harry Styles agreed to let him sing his song. 


	2. Hey Jealousy - Gin Blossom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeey guys. Long time no post, huh?
> 
> Okay, so real talk: we had a chapter prepared for about Feb/March where Eddie got the flu. And then suddenly Corona hit and it just felt very poor taste to post something like that, so we began working on something else, but then life hit us both pretty hard, resulting in posting nothing. 
> 
> But now we have this, huh? We hope you like it.

**_Tomorrow we can drive around this town_ **   
**_And let the cops chase us around_ **   
**_The past is gone but something might be found_ **   
**_To take its place... Hey jealousy_ **   
**_And you can trust me not to think_ **   
**_And not to sleep around_ **   
**_If you don't expect too much from me_ **   
**_You might not be let down_ **

**_'Cause all I really want is to be with you_ **   
**_Feeling like I matter too_ **   
**_If I hadn't blown the whole thing years ago_ **   
**_I might be here with you_ **

It wasn’t the most baffling concept in the world. He was human after all. 

Who cared if he was this well-known rockstar who had created a name for himself with or without his band? Who cared if he had Oscar nominations for original songs? Who cared if he had spoken out about issues like drug use and the horrors of conversion camp? 

Eddie did, for one but that was something he’d never actually admit to. After all, being a smug little bitch even of your accomplishments wasn’t very punk. He was proud of his accomplishments, but he also knew he was more than that. 

He lived a decent life. All right, more than decent. He had a very good life. 

Jealousy wasn’t anything he was new to. Even as a child, the angry green monster would follow him around endlessly. It never bothered him when the other kids had nicer bikes or better clothes. That wasn’t something he could control after all. His mother made it very clear that she was giving him the best of what she could afford. 

It wasn’t the material items that would leave him feeling envious, but rather something else. Someone else. 

It started when they met Mickey. 

Mickey was a photographer who was working his way up to his directorial debut, which just so happened to be Eddie’s music video. Being a part of a band meant creating dozens of music videos, so the process wasn’t anything new to Eddie though they had to at least come up with a decent concept. 

The album was of an abundance of covers so the only originality would come from the music videos.

Mickey was a pretty smart guy and he had a good head on his shoulders. He wasn’t trying to oversell Eddie and play him up as this new performer or rebrand his name in any way. Dr. K had an image to uphold and he wasn’t trying to tamper with that in any way.

There was no insane storyline or dramatic masterpiece. The music video Mickey first started on was “D’yer Mak’er” which was probably the most basic of them all as it was just Eddie lying on a mattress singing. 

It was a constant flip between two different beds. One with black satin cheeks, another with red of the same material. Shiny and almost liquefying, Eddie would lay back as the same hung above him. He sang the words, somethings making small gestures or letting his hands roam. It was meant to come off sensual and everyone agreed that it worked.

After that, they hired Mickey again, this time for “Cruel to be Kind” and rather than doing something incredibly simple, Mickey thought it would be a neat idea to take inspiration from a band that Eddie has always been a big supporter of. 

Just like Weezer putting themselves into the Happy Days era for “Buddy Holly”, they transported Dr. K into the hippy-dippy ’70s. They took his normal attire and dated it as much as they could, and even went as far as to give him an Elvis Costello vibe throughout it. 

The video consisted of Dr. K performing on a stage singing to an audience. Nothing more nothing less. Everybody was dressed in 60/70's style clothes and had their hair done. Eddie did what he could to fit into that specific time, having spent the afternoon prior with Beverly watching a handful of Costello music videos to try to get a feel of his stage presence. 

None of it made sense as Elvis Costello had nothing to do with the original singer Nick Lowe but it worked in away. It was aesthetically pleasing and that had been a little Easter egg for his fans and followers placed in there. 

All the while Dr. K is on stage they constantly pan to a guard standing outside the dressing room. He checks his watch and patiently waits for the concert to be over. And then after performing in front of an audience, which was predominantly filled with women ready to throw themselves at him, Dr. K goes back to his dressing room and pulls the guard inside with him. 

And of course, that guard is played by Richie. 

That wasn’t the original plan and Richie wasn’t too keen about being the apparent eye candy in a music video, but the part was small enough that he could be convinced by the director himself. After all, the only thing he had Richie do was stand there, patiently waiting for the singer to come back to his dressing room and then allow himself to be dragged by the shirt into the room. It was a cheeky gesture in an overall very tame and peppy music video. 

They were still in debates over how many videos to make. It was a twenty song album and they sure as hell couldn’t make twenty videos, at least not without coming off desperate or pretentious. 

There would be some made without having Eddie even in them, which was perfectly fine for him. Stan had spoken to a few other directors who would do their own thing, though it seemed Mickey was to sign on for at least one more. Eddie didn’t mind in the beginning. The guy knew what he was doing and he found himself enjoying the routine the video created for him. 

Mickey liked the idea of having Richie involved, though the latter wasn’t too keen on it. Having a cameo was one thing, but the bigger the role, the higher the chance of things getting complicated for them. 

Eddie and Richie had found a nice balance between being their private life private and being an open book to the fanbase. Richie had his Instagram where he documented their lives on a nearly regular basis while Eddie was happy to answer any questions that were thrown his way, but aside from that, they didn’t go out of their way to talk about themselves or feature their relationship like it was something to promote. 

Eddie didn’t have any real opinion on having Richie in his videos. He liked it because he liked having Richie around, but if it made Richie uncomfortable then he wasn’t going to fight him on it. 

Mickey was able to convince him quite easily it seemed. Eddie wasn’t surprised as the man had gotten him to agree to things he never thought he would, especially when it came to the videos. 

Richie agreed to do one more video and while a majority of people involved hoped it would be for “Lights Up” Eddie put his foot down on that one. It had been the single on the album, as expected, but Eddie had no interest in doing a video for it. After all, there was no way to compare it to the video Harry Styles had done and Eddie wasn’t in the mood to try and compete with a masterpiece. 

So to Stan’s chagrin, that would be one of the few that wouldn’t be given anything other than a lyrical video. 

“All I Ever Wanted” was one of the better ideas the team had come with, as it had Eddie’s influence on it. The song was far slower than some of the others, so he didn’t want to just have him singing like the others. The concept was to go back and forth between Dr. K and his younger self, with the latter going through the rounds of the hell that was conversion camp. It was meant to represent how even with all the success of getting everything he wanted, he was still haunted by those moments. 

They were lucky enough to find a teen actor that looked close enough to what Eddie used to look like and Eddie didn’t want to tamper with that image by thrusting Richie into that, so it was just the two of them going back and forth.

Another song that had gotten chosen for a video was “Memories” but Eddie had bigger plans for that one and decided to have that would be the last one released. 

Mickey had been getting antsy, going back and forth with ideas for the remaining songs. “Ziggy Stardust” had been the main favorite of his and he was determined to make a video happen though Eddie wasn’t pleased with the idea. After all, David Bowie hadn’t even done a legitimate music video for the song and no idea they could come up with seemed worthy enough. 

Maybe Eddie was just being a diva or a punk bastard as he had been previously labeled. Mickey didn’t fight him on much, but he could be a persistent bitch when the time came to it. 

In the end, they decided it would be “So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings”, which in turn ended up being one of Eddie’s favorite songs on the album. The original singer, Caroline Polachek had created a rather unique music video that consisted of her singing the school while in hell, dancing around in a plaid skirt that somewhat resembled a disassembled school girl uniform. 

Mickey once again thought it would be interesting to dress Dr. K up, which somehow was far better than stripping him down and greasing him up like some directors like to do, but simultaneously just as bad as it fed into the strange kink that was hot nerds. 

The concept for the song brought both Richie and Eddie back to high school, with the former playing the part of the popular jock and the latter being the nerd being so endlessly in love with him. It was an extremely wild idea since Richie was the nerdier of the two and Eddie hadn’t even gone to a normal high school so the jock/nerd trope was lost on him. But it was an excuse to put two thirty-year-olds in a high school setting, dressing Richie up in contacts and a letterman jacket and Eddie in suspenders and a pair of glasses of his own. 

Some critics weren’t huge fans of the music videos; most called Dr. K a ‘poster’ or a ‘sell-out’ for having music videos in the first place, let alone ones with some ridiculous storyline, though Eddie couldn’t care less if he tried. 

The actual shoot wasn’t horrible and Eddie had to admit it was kind of amusing, singing longly to his boyfriend who was acting like he didn’t even notice Eddie in the hallway. Richie consistently fucked up the shot because he kept laughing at something dumb he had been thinking of or just wasn’t able to keep a straight face. 

It was like working with a toddler at some points, though Mickey didn’t mind so much. It helped that he wasn’t some old stickler who was just here for a paycheck. He was a genuine music fan who was blessed to have been able to move up the ropes of photography and was able to get a chance like this. 

What didn’t help was how close he and Richie had gotten during their time together. Eddie told himself repeatedly it wasn’t that big of a deal. After all, Mickey was around their ages and when it came to Richie, you either loved him or loathe him. He just had that effect on you. And it seemed for Mickey, it was the former. 

They had gone from being friendly to becoming actual friends. And that was fine. 

People were allowed to have friends. 

Except, you know, when those friends were very touchy-feely and openly gay and are constantly complimenting the person you happen to be dating. 

Eddie told himself he was being silly. Just because someone touched Richie’s arm when they spoke and always gave them hugs when they saw them, that didn’t mean they wanted to be more than friends. 

Just because he was another man who was attracted to men that didn’t mean he wanted to be more than friends with another man who was attracted to men. 

And just because someone told Richie he was funny and laughed at his jokes, or repeatedly said Eddie was a lucky guy, that didn’t mean they wanted to be more than friends with him. 

Or maybe it did and Eddie wasn’t just making things up in his head. 

He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter. Someone could flirt with Richie if they wanted to. Hell, someone could walk around naked in front of them, that didn’t mean Richie was going to do anything about it. 

But that didn’t stop the silent rage that filled his mind whenever he would see Mickey around or whenever Richie could talk about him. And don’t even get Eddie started when Richie began sitting around the house, singing that stupid fucking Toni Basil song. Eddie was very quick to inform his love that the song was a fucking rip off and if he liked the tune so much he should be singing the original Racey version. 

Eddie knew it was unfair of him to be so bitter. After all, he had an entire fanbase that thrived on commenting on his looks. Richie had done an entire article on how many fancam videos he had come across or what his fans liked to call him. Apparently “Zaddy” was at the top of the list. Neither even knew what that even was, but it existed and Eddie had to live with that. 

Eddie also felt terrible for feeling the way he did due to the amount of hate Richie got because of their relationship. It wasn’t everybody. They had a large following of people who supported the relationship or “stanned” them as the kids liked to call it. 

There had even been fanfic about them, something Eddie barred Richie from ever speaking about in his column. Not because he was embarrassed by it, but he knew how hard people worked on their art, and calling it out just seemed like a dick move, even if you were the inspiration of it. 

But there were a few however who thought that Richie was a bad influence on him and even blamed Richie for the Trashmouth hiatus, despite it happening before Eddie and Richie ever reconnected. 

Eddie was never one to comment on the things said about him. It was a free world and if someone wanted to make assumptions or statements, then make them. Ignoring the words didn’t bring any truth to them. 

Richie however, was a little less clean-cut on certain subjects and had no problem getting into twitter wars with smart-mouthed fans. He had been nice about it, for the most part, finding more amusement over the backlash than anything. 

He rarely commented on anything to do with Trashmouth since that involved the other band members and Richie respected their hard work more than he respected the bitter troll hiding before the little blue bird icon. 

However, he did branch out once, after some TMZ reporter followed him out of a restaurant after dinner with Beverly and Mike. They were in his face, egging Richie on to have some sort of reaction and he gave them just that, cheerfully pointing out that he had been the main inspiration for the band in the first place. 

That turned into a whole big thing with some people demanding a full-page apology and even some demanding that Eddie break up with Richie, insisting that he pulled a “Kayne” and he tried to claim Eddie’s success for his own. 

Eddie wound up interviewing with Mike just to clear up the allegations, letting him record it all so he could set the record straight. The band’s name had come from a nickname that Eddie used to call Richie when they were kids and a majority of the songs Eddie had written, especially the softer, more romantic ones had come from the memory of his first love. 

Eddie made it very clear than any sexual partner he had before Richie had been nothing more than a space holder for him. He knew it was cruel and knew he would get hate because of it, but it was a fact. He had been in a dark place during his early twenties and that led to the abuse of drugs and alcohol. 

He had come off being sent to a place that tried to change him and the only thing that brought any real sense of serotonin had been the memories of Richie. He never expected to find him again and writing those songs and naming the band after he was his way of thanking him for those memories. 

Eddie ended the interview getting a bit more candid than he ever expected to, telling all his fans that he loved them and the support he gave them, but they had to understand that the things he had gone through and his way of coping wasn’t something he ever wanted to be dramatized and that his relationship with Richie isn’t something everybody has to understand. 

They were in love and they were happy, and it wasn’t hurting anybody. If somebody was genuinely bothered by that, they didn’t have to listen to him. There were plenty of other artists out there to listen to. 

Things seemed to quiet down after that, at least to a degree. 

And then Mickey showed up and Eddie had been pushed into a hole he never thought he’d be back into. All he could think about was being that bratty kid in Richie’s basement, pouting because Richie wanted to show another boy his Queen record. 

At least back then his jealousy had a bit of meat to it. That record had been something that they both shared. It was innocently intimate. Of course, Eddie would get pissed if Richie wanted to share that with somebody else. 

Now all Mickey was doing was existing and Eddie wanted to banish the man from the fucking universe.

Eddie has kept quiet for the most part. Sure he made little remarks here and there, mostly just to come off like a snarky bastard. The things he said could sound bitchy but he’d do it in a way that made it seem like he was mostly joking. Lighthearted bullshit blah blah blah.

Eddie didn’t want to be one of those partners. The ones that allowed himself to bar his boyfriend from ever having any of the same-sex friends. That shit was toxic and he swore to leave that behavior back in Derry when he ran away. 

And yet swallowing down his inner turmoil and battling with the angry butterflies in his stomach whenever Mickey was around becoming almost too much to handle. 

Everything ended up coming to a close when they went out one night. They went as a group, using the star power to get a space in the corner of the club that was roped off so they could have some privacy. Eddie wasn’t much into dancing but it was better than just sitting home alone. 

At least that was what Beverly insisted when she came over, bragging about popping bottles and dancing in the endless flashes of night. 

Being a punk rocker and going to a club like this had to be some physical form of an oxymoron. He sat with his arms crossed throughout the night, watching as Beverly pulled Ben onto the floor, followed by Richie. Since Richie came along, that meant Mickey was bound to follow. 

Beverly had tried to get him onto the dance floor though he downright refused. He wasn’t in the mood to get all sweaty and dance like some overages member of a boy band. Thankfully Beverly knew not to overstep and left him to pout in the corner.

Richie, surprisingly, thrived on the dance floor. Sure he had a few drinks in him but he was comfortable enough with the people around him to be able to throw it back without a care. And he knew people were watching, some finding him utterly ridiculous and some others liking what they were seeing, but Richie didn’t care. He was either glancing at Beverly or Ben as he laughed or practically eye-fucking Eddie from his place on the dance floor. 

Richie’s attention shifted to someone else as Mickey approached him, dancing as well. Eddie may not have been a big fan of dancing outside of the jerking movements he made on stage, but there was no fucking way he’d let this go on in front of him. 

Eddie had truly begun to wish had hadn’t given up drinking as having some liquid courage would have helped right about now. He knew he was sure, that all this was going to be recorded and the media and his fans were going to have a feast, but honestly? He wouldn’t care less. 

He had a more important mission to accomplish right now and that was to get Mickey as far as Richie as he could. Even though the writer was still dancing to a respectable distance from his friend, it was still unacceptable for Eddie. 

Again, he knew he was being an ass, but he was tipsy and he wanted his boyfriend’s whole attention.

And Richie was having fun dancing with his friends, and it showed by the huge dopey grin he was sporting, but as soon as his eyes landed on Eddie, currently making his way towards him looking extremely mad? No. Frustrated? A little bit. Confident. Yeah, that was more like it.

Pushing away from the table, Eddie gave a swift nod to the bouncer to keep the area guarded. He made his way through the swaying bodies, ignoring a smirk that came from Beverly as he approached Richie. He touched his shoulder, turning him away from the other man until they were face to face under the flashing lights. 

“Hey! I thought you didn’t want to dance!” Richie shouted over the music. 

They were playing some of his work. They had been since word got out that he was there. He guessed it was a strange way to flatter him, though all it did was make Eddie want to roll his eyes. Especially when they decided to put a beat to it to make it a club remix. 

“Changed my mind,” Eddie replied smoothly. 

He quickly cast his gaze toward Mickey, only for a moment as he glanced over Richie’s shoulder before going back to Richie, whose blue eyes were wide with surprise and a playful buzz that came from the expensive alcohol they had bottled up on the table. 

Richie smiled then, beaming eagerly on the dance floor as he draped his arms over Eddie’s shoulders. “Lucky me.” He mused aloud. 

“Lucky you,” Eddie repeated, leaning upon his tiptoes to kiss his giant bastard of a boyfriend. 

The kiss lingered for a good moment until the song change came along and Richie, who was feeling too good to just slip into a casual makeout on the dance floor, pulled away and began dancing again. This time, with Eddie in tow.

Eddie wasn’t too sure how long they had been dancing for. He tried to count the song changes but found himself too invested in following Richie instead. One by one the gang started to leave the dance floor, and then eventually the club altogether. 

The air was brisk when Richie and he finally stumbled out, arm in arm as they swayed towards the car. Richie drank and Eddie didn’t like going out into the city with his vehicle, so a driver was used that night. They sat comfortably in the back seat, practically melting into the leather as the gentle rumble of the car lulled them into a gentle silence. 

“Kind of funny, you know,” Richie mumbled after a moment. “Despite the money and power, and fame you still manage to make a fool out of yourself.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Richie, who at this point had pushed his glasses up to sit on the top of his head, turned his head towards Eddie, merely glancing his way. “You think I don’t know when you’re jealous of someone?” 

Eddie tried to play it cool. Tried to remain leaning back, unbothered by everything around him. Richie just kept smiling, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“You haven’t changed much, Eds.” 

Eddie took a light offense to that, snorting as he sat up straighter. “Bullshit. I’m not the same thirteen years old, pouting because you were spending time with another kid.” 

“No, you’re a grown man pouting because I am spending time with another man,” Richie replied smoothly. “I’m flattered! Honestly. I mean . . . fuck dude, you’re a rockstar. You’ve had sold-out shows and world tours and yet here you are, actually  _ jealous _ over some music video director.” 

“Are you fucking mocking me right now?” 

“I’m not. You know I’m not. I just, if anybody should be jealous, it’s me.” 

Eddie snorted again, rolling his eyes dramatically. It had been a question he had gotten asked before when somebody brought up his relationship during an interview. Did his significant other, who was a nobody compared to him (their words, not his) ever get jealous? 

And the answer was always no. Truth was, Richie and Eddie had gone through too much for Eddie to risk it all by having some stupid fucking affair or even be caught flirting with somebody other than Richie. 

And the even bigger truth was that he didn’t want to be flirting either. The only person he wanted to flirt with was Richie. The only person he wanted to touch, and kiss, and make love to was Richie. The only person he wanted to be with was Richie. 

So why wouldn’t Richie feel the same? 

Eddie sighed, glancing back to his boyfriend who was still smiling at him. 

“Like I said. I’m flattered.” Richie shrugged, closing his eyes as he shifted to get comfortable in his seat. “I promise not to share my Hot Space album with him.” 

“Oh fuck off.” Eddie laughed, moving to kick Richie’s ankle, only to wind up kicking his shin. 

He leaned back after that, falling back into the gentle lull. He felt something then and looked down to see Richie’s hand on his lap. He wasn’t feeling him up or trying anything naughty. Just a simple touch. 

Eddie took that hand and laced it with his own. He sighed comfortably and glanced out the window, thinking about how empty Richie’s left-hand ring finger was. 

They went straight to bed after returning from the club, both of them exhausted to even make out. They stripped to their boxers, flopped on the bed, cuddled up, and poof, they were gone, the gentle buzz of the alcohol and the static of the long-gone music lulling them to sleep. 

Eddie was the second one to wake up, which was a rarity, and he noticed that the sweet smell of freshly made pancakes invading the bedroom. He smiled to himself and stretched lazily before making his way to the kitchen and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, who was currently taking the last three pancakes out of the pan. 

“Well, good morning there,” Richie greeted him, and even though Eddie couldn’t see his face, he knew he was smiling. “The coffee’s ready.”

“Thanks,” Eddie muttered and a kiss in between Richie’s now tee-shirt covered shoulder blades and went to pour both of them their usual big mugs of coffee. “How’s your head?” 

“Oh, it’s fine. Yeah, I thought I was gonna have a killer headache. But I’m fine,” Richie reassured as he sipped from his drink. 

“Glad to hear it.” 

“Go sit at the table, I’m making pancakes.”

Eddie moved to sit, pausing when he saw the small bouquet set up on the table. “Where did these come from?”

“I saw them outside and they were too pretty not to,” the other said with a little shrug as he set the plates at the table and sat down. 

“They’re beautiful, babe. Thank you.” Eddie smiled and blew him a kiss before digging in. 

They settled into a comfortable silence after that, each of them eating their pancakes and sipping their coffee; their minds waking up little by little. 

Eddie was too focused on cutting a big piece of honey-dripping pancake when Richie slid a little black velvet box across the table. 

“What?” He asked in a murmur, staring at the box, scared that if he looked away it might disappear. 

“I had something else planned but I don’t want to wait anymore,” Richie shrugged. 

Eddie’s face paled as he stared at the other man. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Is this me proposing in the laziest way possible? Yes, it is.” Richie replied, not bothering to hide his smirk behind his coffee cup. 

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’ve done this!” Eddie exclaimed and Richie’s face dropped, taking his hand away. “I had all planned! I had a list! And fuck! I even had a ring picked! You dense motherfucker! A fucking  _ list! _ ” 

Richie’s face went from heartbreak to confusion, to amused in mere seconds before he burst into laughter. “Fuck your list! Snooze ya lose, baby!” He exclaimed into laughter, grabbing the box again and opening it up to show him the ring. “Will you marry me then?” Richie insisted hope and love clear in his eyes. 

“Yes, you dense fuck. I’m so in love with you I even danced in a nightclub. Of course, I will marry you.” 

Eddie leaned over the coffee table, kissing him madly despite the sticky syrup and flavor of coffee on their lips. He sat back down and extended his hand out so Richie could slide the ring onto his finger. It was gorgeous, with the band shining white gold and a black material wrapped around the middle. R+E had been carved on the inside, just adding to the pure romanticism of it all. 

“What material is this?” He asked curiously. 

Richie grinned and brought Eddie’s hand closer to kiss it. “Trashmouth’s first vinyl,” Richie replied proudly. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, glancing at it again. “Is it your album?” 

“What? Fuck no, I don’t love you enough to ruin that.” Richie laughed playfully.

The simple yet meaningful ring was made out of Trashmouth’s first album, well vinyl, and titanium. He had been suggested that idea while ring shopping with Mike and Bev and he stuck to it, choosing the first vinyl Trashmouth released as it held a special place in both their hearts. 

The rockstar didn’t say anything, he just stood up, walked over to Richie, and sat on his lap, cupping his boyfriend’s jaw with both hands to stare at his eyes. “Richard Wentworth Tozier, you’re a sap and I love you so much,” he murmured before kissing him. 

“You should be jealous more often. Kind of works out in both our favors.” Richie mentioned, smiling until Eddie pulled him in for another kiss. 

From that point on, Eddie knew that no matter how jealous he got or how many Mickey’s they ran into in their lives, Richie belonged to Eddie. And Eddie belonged to Richie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So was it worth the wait? Please let us know.


	3. Unwell - Matchbox Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so quick disclaimer. This was originally written back in February/March and was meant to be the first official chapter of this continuation, however when the Coronavirus started getting worse, the two of us agreed it wasn't right for there to be a chapter like this out there in the world just yet. 
> 
> Of course, many other fandoms and probably even this one have fics about the virus and the quarantine. Regardless, we didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable. 
> 
> Time has gone on, the world has gotten (a little bit) better. Yesterday and today are the one year anniversaries of the two of us seeing It Chapter 2 and being completely destroyed by it, so what better way to celebrate? 
> 
> Eddie does not have the virus, I repeat, Eddie Kaspbrak does not have CV, but the regular flu. Nothing more, nothing less. It's just a sick fic with Richie being anxious. Just wanted to get that across.

_**All day staring at the ceiling** _   
_**Making friends with shadows on my wall** _   
_**All night hearing voices telling me** _   
_**That I should get some sleep** _   
_**Because tomorrow might be good for something** _

Eddie hated getting sick. He despised it with all his average-sized being. Not only because it made him sluggish and sleepy, no. He hated it mostly because it meant that his voice was raspier than usual, it hurt to sing and his muscles ache even when standing still. 

He had always taken proper precautions. How could he not when he was raised by someone like his mother, who used to pump him with allergy pills even during the wintertime and kept him out of sight from things like large gatherings and public toilets. 

He had gotten sick just like every other person in the world. He wasn’t immune to anything and he was fine with that. Getting ill was just a part of life. Some people just happened to be more prone to it than others. It wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Except for this time, it was. 

This time, it was worse. He was in the middle of the European leg of his tour and the doctor practically begged him to cancel and stay in bed. The doctor, Bev, Stan, and Richie, begged for him to stay in bed. Even his fans had found out thanks to Richie’s growing Instagram found out and were begging him to stay in bed.

Oh, poor Richie, who came from New York to have a mini vacation with his boyfriend, and there he was, fixing him tea with lemon and holding his hand while his fevered ass suffered in silence. 

Cause no, Eddie wasn’t going to show them how bad he felt. For that masculinity bullshit that men -especially punks- should suck it up and “be a man.” Whatever that fucking meant. No. He had shows to give. It was because of that. And he was going to give them. No matter what. 

As deathly as Eddie felt, he wasn’t going to stay down. No no. He committed with his people. With his fans. And he wasn’t going to disappoint much to everyone’s disapproval and concern. He had three shows in Paris; three days in a row. Then two days to rest on his way to London. He would rest then. Because Dr. K might be a punk rocker but he had responsibilities that he was going to fulfill no matter what. 

It was because he owed it to his people; to his fans. They made him who he was and they were with him on this insane journey. Some from the beginning, some not, but they all meant a lot to Eddie. They let him be who he was. And he also meant an escape for them; from their parents, their bosses, their everyday bullshit. And if he stopped and thought about it, it was because of him that he got to reunite with Richie. So excuse him for wanting Eddie to give them everything.

So no, he wasn’t going to cancel for the stupid flu. 

So what if he was puking his brains out? Wouldn’t be the first time. That’s the life of a rockstar, baby. You get on stage, tear the house down, and then spend the rest of the night partying and vomiting. Of course, most of the time, the latter is caused by the former. But that didn’t stop him from being completely okay with it. 

Eddie had lived his wild nights, he had survived the drug addicting and the alcohol drinking world and he had gotten used to feeling like absolute garbage before and after a show. He wasn’t going to take a hit all because he felt a little light-headed, his stomach was in knots, and his sore was sore as shit. 

If anything, the sore throat only helped matters. Who didn’t love the roughness? Who didn’t dig the heaviness it brought to his performance? He had been sick before and he could continue to carry on being sick until his body fucking hit the stage and wouldn’t get back up again. 

The one that came closer to making Eddie cancel was Richie, of course. With his unusual sweet voice and promises. This didn’t mean Richie wasn’t sweet with Eddie, but their love was based on bad jokes and teasing, with only a little hint of romance. So when Richie was sweet it was because he needed to be, and he needed to bring all his guns to the battle. 

“Come on Eds, just stay in bed and rest. We can cuddle, order some room service and watch a movie. I’ll go down to the kitchen and have them whip you up some chicken soup or whatever the fuck they say you should eat when you feel like this.” Richie offered, pausing as he watched Eddie groan from just putting on his jacket. “Or we could just sleep. Just sleep all fucking day and night. Don’t tell me that doesn’t sound like heaven.”

And Eddie wasn’t going to lie, it was tempting. His head didn’t hurt that much, but his fever was high and his body ached. Staying in bed sounded like a blessing. Add Richie cuddling him to the mix and you got the definition of heaven right there. But he wasn’t going to pussy out just because he was sleepy. 

“Richie, I have to give this concert. It’s just the flu, the doctors ran every test possible and discarded everything else. It’s just a passing thing, I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Eddie insisted, which earned a frown from his boyfriend. “I’ll sweat it out.”

“Where the fuck is my little hypochondriac I met decades ago?” He asked with a slight smirk, even though the worry in his features could be seen from miles away. Eddie tossed him a knowing glance, unable to shake off the realization that times had changed. They both had changed. 

Back when they were kids, he never felt the house if he felt sick. Even if it was just the sniffles caused by allergies, his mother would lock him away from the rest of the world until he was able to walk around the house without looking flushed. 

Those were the days when Richie used to climb up his window just to be able to see him. Eddie never kissed him when he felt under the weather, but that didn’t stop the other boy from sneaking in a peck on the cheek or forehead much to Eddie’s annoyance. The boy was scared of making Richie sick but he wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t like the affection. 

“He’s been silenced by the power of money and high demand from his fans,” Eddie admitted. “I promise I’ll go straight to bed after the performance.” 

Richie sighed, knowing it was a lost cause and held his pinky out. “Promise it.” He knew better than to argue with him. 

Eddie interlaced their fingers together and blew him a kiss. “Pinky promise.”

The writer sighed and stood up, offering his hand to Eddie to help him up. “Go to the bathroom and get yourself ready. I’ll text Bev and tell her to get the stylist.” He kissed his forehead and headed out of the room, speaking as he walked. “Scream if you die or something.”

The team got ready and worked like a Swiss clock, getting Dr. K ready as fast as they could and making him look like the rockstar he always was. It usually didn’t take that long, but he was extra pale this time around and it seemed to work for him. 

They got him to stage-ready, gave him some ibuprofen, and the doctor-the real one- gave him the okay before they sent him off to his car. 

Eddie, Richie, Beverly, and Stan rode in the same car, the last two still trying to make Eddie reconsider the concert, but all they got was his usual bitchiness and a sharp hand movement. “I’m already in the fucking car, already my fucking way. Jesus Christ, haven’t you people ever heard of the saying ‘The Show Must Go On’?” 

“That was written by a man who had an actual disease, one that couldn’t be stopped with bed rest.” Stan pointed out. 

“Actually-” Richie started but was cut off rather swiftly by Eddie himself. 

“It was written by Brian May, dipshit. Look it up. Read a book.” He snapped bitterly. 

Richie just rubbed his knee gently, eventually taking Eddie’s hand to show some sign of comfort and support. He had Eddie’s inhaler and some extra ibuprofen in his jacket pocket and he would run faster than anyone if anything came up. Even faster than the real doctor. He looked at his boyfriend and squeezed his hand gently, trying to subdue nausea that was overcoming him. 

“Please promise me that if you start feeling off or anything, you’ll stop. Please.” He got his best pleading eyes on, not as persuasive as Eddie’s puppy eyes, but he tried. 

“Richie. I know this is going to be very hard to believe, but I’m not that sickly little kid anymore. I’m a grown man and grown men work even if they’re under the weather.” 

“You can afford to skip a show or two, Eds.” 

“But I shouldn’t have to.” Eddie pointed out. “These people came here to see me and they’re going to see me whether you like it or not.” 

“Well, I don’t fucking like it,” Richie replied stubbornly. 

“Well tough shit, Rich. Do you think I’ve been in perfect health until now? Out of all the years I’ve been doing this, all the times you used to drive out to see Trashmouth I never once got ill? It fucking happens. Unless I’m lying in a hospital bed somewhere, I’m going to perform. Welcome to the life of a rockstar, baby. Now stop the fucking worrying.” 

Richie was quiet for a moment. They had both been used to Eddie having a random outburst. He had been a very stubborn child, never willingly putting up with Richie’s shit even when they were just messing around. Eddie didn’t know if Richie would ever have a turning point in their relationship when he realized he was tired of being snapped at by him, but he guessed today wouldn’t be it. 

“I hate to break it to you babe, but I’ve been worrying since the day we met and I don’t think I could stop now if I tried.” He mentioned, looking out the window as they drove on, still holding Eddie’s hand as they did so. 

They pulled up to the venue and Bev automatically pulled him away, directing him back to the makeup area to reapply the powder to keep him from sweating all the makeup off. Richie kept close by, watching Eddie like a hawk.

Maybe he was overreacting or maybe this was just what being in love was like. Always wanting to take care of that one special person no matter the risk. 

“Don’t die out on stage,” Richie commented as they got Eddie ready to go on. 

Eddie rolled his eyes at him, almost fondly. “I’m not that dramatic.” He swore. 

They didn’t kiss before Eddie went on for obvious reasons. Even if Eddie wasn’t that Lil germaphobe he used to be, he still was wise enough to not spread the virus. Instead, he just flipped Richie off, which was good enough for the other man, and descended onto the stage. 

The show was fine. As good as any other show. He wasn’t panting or going into an asthma attack. He was sweating enough, but he was also a very active person. He moved around on stage for more than Richie hoped he would, but it was obvious that Eddie wasn’t going to let the illness get the best of him. 

Only once did he falter, forgetting a lyric to one of the songs but he laughed it off, letting the crowd sing it for him while he caught his breath and amusingly told them that he was getting too old for this shit. The crowd just laughed aloud and cheered him on. He did the encore as always, refusing to change any bit of his planned routine.

All the while Stanley and Beverly were running around making sure they had everything ready for when he finally got off stage. 

Beverly shoved a water bottle in his mouth, squeezing it so he would have to chug all the contents of it. They had a team of professionals who do a swift quick change for him, removing the heavy and sweat covered black clothing and swapping it out for a clean pair of joggers and a cotton tee shirt. 

They had a cooling pad on his shoulders and over his eyes for the car ride to the hotel, all three of them squeezing into the one side so he could lay down along the seat of the limo. Stanley rambled on, explaining that they had four days until their next show. Dr. K was meant to have interviews with people in between, but Stan had made the proper call to postpone them, allowing Eddie to have a few days to rest before having to hit the stage again. 

Eddie didn’t care too much, giving Stan a thumbs up on the response. He didn’t like the idea of canceling anything, whether it be an interview or a show, but he also knew it was better now to go to many places, not wanting the flu to spread any more than it had already. 

When they arrived in the room, the tub had been filled with ice and cold water, allowing his body to cool off and bring down his fever. He sunk into it easily, swearing as the chilled water numbed his entire being. 

Richie just watched, unsure of what he was even supposed to do at this moment. He felt slightly uneasy but knew it would be better to leave it to the professionals. It wasn’t until Eddie was out of the tub, changed into another comfortable outfit, and laid out on the bed that Richie was finally able to do something useful. 

Eddie groaned, taking the medication that had been given to him and drinking the very bland tea that Stan had set out for him. He was exhausted but still looked unhappy until finally, Richie crawled into bed with him. 

Eddie, who was selfless enough to perform for his fans even when he felt horrible, decided to be selfish at that moment because the moment Richie was settled on the mattress, he moved into Richie’s personal. He used his chest as a pillow and wrapped his arms around his waist to keep himself locked into him. 

“Remind me to apologize if you get sick.” He said, the word muffled against Richie’s tee shirt. 

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” Richie replied, running his hand up and down Eddie’s back soothingly. 

And as Eddie fell asleep on top of him, covering his Nirvana tee shirt in snot and drool, Richie realized this was just part of the job of being a rockstar's boyfriend. And it wasn’t so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell us what you thought down below. I know this series meant a lot of some of you so we're happy to offer any morsels of a continuation as we can.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to the people who requested this! Please comment below and tell us something you'd like to see from his couple. Or you can tell us how much you liked it or disliked it. We're here to listen! 
> 
> You can also check out Richie's very active Instagram account: @the.richietozier if you also wanna keep up with the boys!


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